'Call Me By Your Name' by Andre Aciman

Ready your rifles and sharpen your teeth, because I am about to review the beloved, ‘Call Me By Your Name’ by Andre Aciman. 



I had it on good word from three of my friends that this would be the book to keep me up all night, transfixed. I would similarly be unable to eat or relieve myself because both would require taking my eyes from the page (and therefore from Oliver’s ass). This is the literary version of crack cocaine, I was told. I would be left ravaged and sleep-deprived in a puddle of my own piss.

That was how much I was supposed to love this book. 


But I did not like it. 


 “What?!” I hear the howls of thousands of fangirls as they once again try to convince me that my opinion is wrong. 


I did not like it I did not like it I did not like it.


Perhaps it was something to do with the hype this book received which left me disappointed. One friend told me that I would ‘relate so much to Elio’ in his ‘awkward introversion.’ I beg of you, what sane person could relate to a 17-year-old boy who thinks that shitting on someone else’s shit is sexy (and I am not going to mention the peach scene here, but DAMN).

No- Elio was pretentious and I could not warm to him. I liked Oliver slightly more, but perhaps because I wasn’t subjected to his constant musings about Elio. At points the actions of our two protagonists had me screaming, ‘For God’s sake just suck it up, or suck him off, but please stop moaning already.’ As for the other characters, they may have well not existed for all the depth they brought.


I have to give it some credit, so the two stars are for how much I laughed. Everything was written with such avid seriousness that it morphed into the ridiculous. A chief example:


‘It would never have occurred to him that in placing the apricot in my palm he was giving me his ass to hold or that, (…) if I dared to bite that far, his apricock.’


As a world-class cynic who despises romantic constructions, I can appreciate the fact that I’m not Aciman’s target audience, but the pun on ‘apricock’ made me want to claw at my face. Little did I know that this scene was just a precursor for THE apricot scene. 


I could go on and on (a bit like Elio?), but I will keep it simple. If I were to describe this book in three words?


Pretentious, flowery, smut. 


(Feel free to disagree with me)

2/5 stars